A Safe Pair of Hands
by Noceur
Summary: Noun: A reliable person who can be trusted not to make a mistake with a task.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER I: Adynamia (Helplessness)  
_Life is a tough crowd._

Cedric Diggory spent a good two thirds of his fifth year at Hogwarts stewing and calculating over quidditch. It wasn't that unheard of for his focus to be knotted around the sport worse than the Whomping Willow's bark, but it was particularly bad that year. There was a perfectly rational reason behind his bolstered obsession, too; Ormskirk had been dropping hints like mad that he was planning to name Cedric captain after he graduated. Of course, Cedric was excited, grateful and appreciative that the captain he'd respected for the last few years had so much faith in him. He only wished the older boy could've waited at least until Christmas holidays to let on about it. He already had O.W.L.s to worry about and this mania about the Chamber of Secrets, was a little peace too much to ask?

His friends didn't mind his turmoil in the slightest. After years of living together, his roommates were used to Cedric's fanaticism and the mild insanity he suffered when stressed. They continued on with business as usual and Cedric couldn't ask for more. Sitting on his bed with a notebook of game strategies, listening to the four other boys boisterously debate the ranking of Hogwarts' young beauties was better than anything he could imagine. It was normal. At least this year.

This year, his best friend, Bernard Maltby, had put together a list – quite lengthy and detailed really – of all the school's most notable girls. He even had it charmed so he could organize the names in rankings, house, and relationship status without having to cross anything out. The charm was Cedric's contribution to the project because he usually wasn't able to take part in the discussions where the other boys settled the rankings, themselves. He settled for listening to the mirth the over-romanticized opinions of such a group of teenaged boys brought about.

Darrel Turner had a crush on Cho Chang, a third year in Ravenclaw, and often brought up her name. Each time it developed into an argument between him and Rickett, since the beater was adamant that Cho was too young and the list should be confined to only the girls in fifth year or above. Comments like this sent Turner into a tizzy about double standards and he would demand the list be further restricted to fifth year _only_. At that point, Bernie would intervene.

"Calm down, lads." Bernie cooed in his low, Scottish burr. "Darr'l, if ya' want to chatter on about the girl of your dreams, you'll 'ave to save it. Anthony, you're a prude. Now, I've been savin' the best contestant for just the right moment and you boys won't spare a t'ought to third years and Ravenclaws after tis. The Bitch of the Wild Hunt herself, Miss Ansa Miller." A chorus of exclamations followed the name as though Bernie had set off an actual bomb. Everyone in Hufflepuff knew that name and, until today, it had been not so mysteriously absent from the list.

"C'mon, Maltby, you can't expect us to roll with that one. No one wants the wrath of Killer Miller." Lubbert Leen groaned from his spot on the foot of Rickett's bed. Bernie only laughed in response.

"Hey, I think she's fair game. She is pretty in that one-last-look-at-a-nice-face-before-you-croak way." Rickett chimed, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I think she ate a first year during the commotion at the Halloween feast." Turner shuddered dramatically. "Besides, isn't she dating the Giant Squid?"

The four boys burst into raucous laughter. There must've been a hundred such rumors floating around the castle about Hufflepuff house's most hostile member. According to say-so, the poor girl had Nula blood, dragon blood, and suffered from lycanthropy, not to mention that her mother is a hag, her father was secretly You-Know-Who's biggest supporter and possibly a former supporter of Adolf Hitler and she was going to raise the Wild Hunt after she graduated. Some even say she cut out her tongue – or her soul in other, more colorful tellings – in a bit of Dark magic, hence her silent skulking and tight lipped glares.

Cedric didn't know the girl personally so he tried not to give much attention to rumors about her sour disposition and malevolent deeds. That wasn't always easy, though. Ansa Miller had a habit of disappearing, she didn't talk much unless she was in class and she had what was easily the most intense stare Cedric had ever encountered. She seemed to stare down the world and come out triumphant with every passing glance.

"Have you got your sights on Miller, Maltby?" Turner asked in a sickly-sweet singsong. "Is that why you're puffing her up like this?"

Cedric eyed his friends. Bernie hadn't mentioned any special interest in Miller to him. He watched as the Scot laughed and scratched a note onto the long roll of parchment which housed his precious list. Cedric often wondered if it was strange how commonly he was left completely in the dark about his friends and their thoughts. "No. It's not like t'at. If ya want to put a tack on it, you could say I'm 'er fan." Bernie glanced quickly over to Cedric, enjoying his silence, before throwing his head back to laugh some more. "I like 'er style. The girl acts like she's one bad mood off from burning dis whole castle down. She's excitin'."

That was true. But no one knew yet just how exciting Ansa Miller and her moods could be.

Later the boys trickled out of their dorm and up into the Great Hall for dinner. They ate and chattered and Cedric learned that the teachers weren't having any more luck reviving the boy who'd been petrified the night before than they were with Mrs. Norris. From what he'd heard, which had been quite a bit as this was really the only thing anyone had been talking about all day, the victim was some poor first year Gryffindor with a pension for photography. That last bit only mattered because the kid was apparently found still holding his camera. The whole business made Cedric's stomach turn.

Nothing Cedric could imagine could rationalize someone attacking schoolchildren and animals. He didn't really want to imagine something that _could_ explain it.

Some other students, especially in the lower years, were gossiping that Harry Potter was behind it. They claimed he was a Parselmouth and thought that ability was as sure a sign as any that he was not only Dark, but a descendant of Hogwarts' famous Parselmouth founder. How the Boy Who Lived could be slinking around, trying to kill muggle-borns and cats on the vendetta of Salazar Slytherin was only one more thing Cedric couldn't fathom. It was ridiculous. Cedric had played against the boy last year and had watched him in all of Gryffindor's matches for the year; Harry was fair, direct and all-around decent. He never resorted to any underhanded tricks or dangerous bouts on the pitch and, as far as Cedric's experience went, a player's style in the game was typically a reasonable show for their true conduct.

When he heard the whispers and saw the sharp glances toward the Gryffindor table and the pair of utterly ordinary second years who were Harry Potter's best friends, Cedric tried to keep his head down and not let on to his annoyance. When it all became a little too much, he gathered himself and made his way out, Bernie at his side all through the throngs of the Hall.

The two talked between themselves, deciding to take a quick trip to the library before they returned to their common room for the night. Bernie wanted to see if he could find a reliable source for an essay he had to do for muggle studies. As they walked he told Cedric what he knew already about the muggle doctor and inventor he was writing on. They were caught up in their discussion, having transformed at that point into a comparison between this muggle doctor, Jonas Salk, and Gunhilda of Gorsemoor, when they came across a huddle of students in a tight nook off the corridor. The group was speaking in low grumbles and hisses and from their distance. Cedric couldn't make out much of what they were saying. He was ready to walk on past them with no more than a wary once-over before Bernie nudged him with his elbow and pointed out a single shock of canary yellow pinned in the center of the mass.

Paying a bit more attention, Cedric saw that the group was formed entirely of Slytherins except that one bit of yellow. It wasn't usually his way to judge a situation so quickly, but every instinct in his body compelled him to step into that group and stand beside his housemate. He didn't even realize who he was defending until she was already tucked safely behind his shoulder. It was her eyes, wide and questioning and as penetrating as ever, staring at him from that shielded spot that brought about recognition.

"What's going on here?" Cedric barked at the crowd of silver and green clad students before him. Somewhere in his mind, he noted that most of the faces before him were rather young and those that weren't, were quite familiar. "Flint, you've got your team picking on lone girls in empty hallways now?"

A small, pinch-faced boy stepped forward and sneered before Flint could quip any response of his own. "Shut up, you minger, mind your own business."

Cedric recognized the haughty air of the old pureblood families and he tried to place the recognizable child growling at him. "This is my business."

He hadn't meant much by that short statement; only that Ansa Miller was a Hufflepuff and their house had a practice of sticking up for one another. He felt that it was his place to defend this friendless, cornered girl. Cedric had no way of knowing what four little words could do to rework his whole life.

"Ha!" Flint barked as he moved to the younger boy. "This little half-breed mutt? This is Cedric 'Golden Child' Diggory's bint?!" He hollered in rough, snappish laughter.

Cedric didn't really understand. His mind was stuck on Flint's accusation of Miller's blood status, he felt so angry he was seeing red. Before he could settle his ire enough for a comeback, Cedric felt a pull on his hand. He turned to see Miller's lean, sturdy fingers wrapped around his own just as her voice resounded over the crowd. "I'm his lover."

She shoved easily passed the slightly stunned students and pulled Cedric along in her wake with surprising strength as she stormed eminently away. Distractedly, he wondered where Bernie was and if he would still be able to find a book for his research as Miller towed him away. With her head held high and that stark gaze fixed straight ahead, with Cedric gawking confoundedly as he trailed after her, the two entered a new chapter in their burgeoning lives.

This was the beginning of it all.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi, I want to thank you all for reading and especially those who favorited after the first chapter. You guys are awesome! There's also one or two points I wanted to make: This story draws on some Scandinavian mythology so there are a few things brought up already in just these two chapters (i.e the Wild Hunt, the elders). If anyone is confused, you can always leave me a review or a PM and I'll explain. Also, I'm gonna be going into a bunch of stuff about the 'Bieng' and 'Beast' classifications and half-breeds that is mostly my own invention. I'll draw on Rowling for a note here or there, but she doesn't clear up much. Finally, I want to say now that this story will be canon up to a point, but it will eventually split off. _No, the point is not in the graveyard._

Thanks again. Extra gargantuan thanks to J.K. Rowling for letting me play in her world.

* * *

CHAPTER II: Walcott's Bargain  
_You are only ever a victim of your own mind._

In the morning, Cedric was as good as useless. He had never been much for rising early and he would never be able to put into words how thankful he was for his roommate, teammate, friend, wake-up call and lifesaver, Anthony Rickett. He would undoubtedly have been cut from the quidditch team if it weren't for Rickett boxing him around the ears to get him up for early morning practice and morning classes and any other reason he could find. Friends were a wonderful thing.

Of course, this particular morning was more difficult than most as Cedric had been kept out so late last night he had needed to sneak back into the common room. Then he'd been met with an interrogation from two superbly curious seventh year girls, up late to study. He was a groggy mess when Rickett towed him out to the pitch and he was puddle of himself by the time Ormskirk was finished the lot of them. Cedric returned to the dorms, showered quickly and hoped he had enough time for some sort of breakfast. He'd be in some real trouble if he fell asleep in Ancient Runes as Professor Babbling had never much cared for him. It seemed she didn't appreciate his morning deficiencies as an excuse and after a terrible accident with a growth rune in his third year, she always kept an eye on him and anyone unfortunate enough to be paired with him.

Worries about his empty stomach and crotchety teacher fled Cedric's mind once he reentered the common, though. She was balancing herself on the back of one of the overstuffed chairs, sitting cross-legged and looking much more patient than Cedric believed her capable. His girlfriend was waiting for him and every other pair of eyes in the common room, which was abnormally full for the time of day, was scrutinizing the scene.

Annie greeted him with a tight-lipped smile that quickly transformed into a shrewd glower until Cedric returned her phony glee. Once she was appeased she handed him a fat, green apple and a slice of toast with a sunny-side up egg on it; she called it toad in the hole, but Cedric didn't see any sausage. He ate the offerings with awkward thanks and then she held out her hand to him and they were off.

Annie's hand was a little damp and very stiff as it gripped Cedric's. He couldn't remember quite clearly – he was rather shocked at the time – but he didn't think that had been true last night.

When Ansa Miller had declared herself Cedric's _lover_ and hauled him away with her up to the second floor and into a long since abandoned classroom, she had been positively sanguine. She had locked the door behind them with a flick of her wand, sat herself atop a dust-caked desk, then turned her staggering gaze onto Cedric and waited. He hadn't moved from where she abandoned him just a few steps into the room, but he fidgeted under the weight of that stare. "W-what…what was that about?"

Miller cocked her head like a bird as she appraised him. It was easy to imagine her to be a predator. "That depends on whach'ya mean. Are you asking why dose people dislike me? What we'd been discussing before your interruption? Why I called us an item? Or maybe, why I locked the door?"

That was annoying. She could've just explained any of that and saved them both some time. "Any of it; all of it. I'd like an explanation for what you just pulled me into."

She laughed then. She laughed so hard she bent double and her wild hair fell between them, but somehow the sound lacked any enjoyment. "Oh, Golden Boy, you jumped in all by yerself. Dat's what you get for trying to play the white knight." Cedric felt himself flush, but she continued without giving him a chance to object. "The answer is simple enough. They don't like me because I'm different an' they wanted to make sure I remembered that different is the same as unworthy. I realized after you came so heroically to my rescue that a relationship between you an' I could be mutually beneficial. Oh, and I don't like eavesdroppers."

"What?"

"S'why I locked the door."

"No, not that!" Cedric barked, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation. This girl was exhausting. He was certain she was doing all of this on purpose though he didn't have any idea as to why. It was getting late, the room barely caught enough of the last hints of grey twilight to see by, and there seemed to be less and less for her to gain from mocking Cedric as each new minute ticked past. "What on earth could come of us two dating one another? I don't even know you."

He was pacing now, anxious to leave and escape Miller's madness. She still sat perfectly at ease on her filthy perch, watching him and tapping her sneakered feet between her knees and the wood beneath her. A gentlemanly part of Cedric's brain wanted to remind her that a girl shouldn't sit tailor fashion while wearing a skirt, but he stifled the urge as she began again in her low, motley drawl. "You know me, just as I know you, just as everyone knows both of us. We're famous. Not the same as Harry Potter or Professor Lock'art, but you and I both have our reputations in this school.

I've seen you 'round here and I happened to have noticed that you have an extraordinary lack of female friendships. I don't think you're bonkie inclined so that leaves me supposing that you might just be stuck at that awkward phase where boys aren't sure if cooties are really imaginary." Miller smiled and despite the hint of glee that finally appeared in her pale eyes, Cedric scowled back at her. "You've got yerself painted up as a target for every stalker an' sociopathic bint within ten miles. You've seen them just as I 'ave, but there ain't nothing you can do 'bout it. But I could fix that little problem. Your _girlfriend_ could fix it."

Cedric stared at the girl, trying his damndest to make sense of this prospect. Ansa Miller, the Bitch of the Wild Hunt, herself, was asking him out in her own severely twisted way. She was insulting him, belittling him and demanding his compliance to her senseless schemes. It was true that Cedric had one or two run-ins already with…overeager girls, but it hadn't been anything he couldn't fend off with some help from Bernie and the guys. It was also true that he wasn't entirely ready for a relationship; he had to keep up with his studies and with quidditch – now he would be captain, Turner had been going on that he thought Professor Sprout might put him up for prefect since she like him so much, and he always had a hundred or so errands that he needed done. He didn't have time to try and keep some girl happy.

Miller was quiet, obviously straining for the patience to give him time to process her proposal. She leaned back on her hands, still clutching her wand, to watch him watching her. Cedric had to admit she certainly belonged on Bernie's list. She was attractive; tall for a girl with strong shoulders that were usually hidden under her mass of unkempt, swarthy curls, pouty lips and striking features that made her look like something that had only just crept out of the Dark Forest. And then there were those eyes of hers. Maybe if she smiled Miller could be 'pretty', but with her constant frown those eyes were resonant pikes, defensive and ready to strike. Cedric could hardly imagine there was any way for him to make her happy.

"I have friends to help me when I'm in a pinch, Miller." Cedric told her as a strange wave of pity washed over him. Miller didn't have friends, after all. "Why would you want to get into a relationship with someone that you don't even like?" He couldn't deny that her reasoning made sense. Girls, at least those with proper morals, give wide berth to boys with girlfriends. That didn't mean he would take her bait without knowing her motives.

"Never said I don't." Miller quipped, sliding off her desk in a cloud of dust. "I'm not at this school to play into the popularity contest, Mr. Diggory. I know what I want an' that is the only t'ing I care about. Someone like you, someone charming and respectable, and it could only do me good to have ya on my side."

She wasn't going to elaborate on those plans of hers; he could hear that much in her voice. But she was being honest. Cedric knew that Miller was the type to put on disappearing acts; and when she could be found, she was always either reading or elbow deep, working in the greenhouses or out in one of Kettleburn's or Hagrid's paddocks. Whatever it was she wanted to do with her life, there didn't seem to be anything capable of distracting her. "People don't like me and I don't mind, but it might stand in the way of getting' where I want to go. But everyone loves Cedric Diggory – the people who hate you even love you." She walked over to where Cedric stood, stopping only inches from him. "If I don't keep movin', someday my goals'll be past me. I won't be able to reach for dem anymore. I'm asking for yer help. I need you."

_I need you._

Have there ever been more compelling words?

That short speech and those powerful words were all it took to turn Cedric's will to water. He sighed "Alright. Let's say I do this, it would have to be under some conditions." He didn't want his parents knowing about this and he didn't want her telling her family either. He refused to alter his schedule for her. This would stop immediately if his grades fell. And, though Cedric felt a strange tug of masculine shame to say it, he didn't want to kiss her or even touch her if he could help it. He wanted this to be a like a business deal; as she'd called it, a mutually beneficial relationship.

The girl had the gall to laugh at his contingencies. When she contained herself, she gave him a somber look and he could see her sucking on the inside of her cheek. "Thank you for agreein', but I should be fair. This could be dangerous fer you if ya don't understand. You heard what they called me – you know what I am?" She asked in a low, wary tone.

Ansa Miller was a half breed. That's what the rumors said when they had started their first year and had started again when the attacks began this year. He wondered if she was scared and maybe that was what made her so desperate for a comrade. So many people knew about her blood status, it wouldn't be surprising for her to become a target. And she was asking Cedric to protect her. "It's alright." And it would be, he'd make sure. "The way I figure it, all wizards and witches are descendants of the elders, anyway. I don't really understand all the purist fuss."

Miller beamed at this and Cedric blushed as he realized that he'd been right; she was pretty when she smiled. "It's a bunch of pith!" She chirped happily.

They spent the next few hours creating what Miller called a 'backstory'. She wanted to be prepared in case anyone asked them…or rather Cedric any questions. If they did, he'd tell them that he and Annie – because Miller thought people might be suspicious of them if they still called each other by their surnames and she apparently didn't go by Ansa – had been friends since second year and that they'd gotten closer over the summer. The story was that he had asked her out mid-October, but they'd been keeping some distance because of his busy schedule and Annie's fears.

Cedric had been surprised when she suggested that part. He hadn't thought she would want to go around announcing her weaknesses so freely. "People are already thinkin' I've got something to worry 'bout with dis Chamber o' Secrets dodder, so it's no problem to play into that here. It makes sense: 'Oh, no Cedric, dearest, we can't tell anyone 'bout us! You'll be in danger!'" She trilled in mock terror.

He had to admit, Annie wasn't half bad at strategizing. She could whip up a good response to any dilemma or hypothetical situation he threw at her and by the time they crept out of their dusty hideaway, Cedric felt they were well equipped for any interrogation. That was good because he was fairly certain there would be a heavy one waiting for him the next time he talked to Bernie. Despite their both being in Hufflepuff, Annie split from Cedric immediately outside the classroom. When he asked where she was off to she only glared and made a snide comment about little boys and their bedtimes.

"Do you always stay out at night?" He asked her as they walked toward the Ancient Runes classroom.

"Only when I want to escape something." Annie grunted and shook her hand free of his. He considered saying something about her sweaty palm, but thought better of it. Whether he wanted to listen to the rumors or not, whether she had seemed nice enough – if a little standoffish – last night, Cedric really did not want to risk the ire of Ansa Killer Miller.


End file.
